


Remember When I Moved In You

by Keira_63



Series: The Minor Fall, The Major Lift [6]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Friendship/Love, I am very sorry for the wait, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It has been so long since I last updated this series, Love, Mentions of Sex, POV Molly Hooper, Pre-series flashback, Spoilers up to series 3 episode 2, Story titles taken from the song Hallelujah, spoilers for The Sign of Three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24929764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keira_63/pseuds/Keira_63
Summary: Sherlock comes to Molly for assistance with John’s bachelor party, and she finds herself remembering a night which is both treasured and painful to her, and she is sure is long deleted by Sherlock.
Relationships: Molly Hooper & Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper & Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, background John Watson/Mary Morstan, brief Molly/Tom, pre-Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper - Relationship
Series: The Minor Fall, The Major Lift [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/68601
Kudos: 30





	Remember When I Moved In You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sherlock is a TV series created by Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat and based on the Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own any of it. Any dialogue you recognise comes from series 3 episode 2.
> 
> Notes: Warning for sex while one person is pretty much sober (one alcoholic drink) and the other is high on drugs. I was a bit leery about the consent issues here, but while Sherlock is on drugs here, he is not meant to be in a state where he can’t consent.
> 
> This is the sixth part in a series spanning from pre-series until post series 3. It was inspired by lyrics from the song Hallelujah - the series title and each story title is a line, or part of a line, from the song. This part is set during 3x2, The Sign of Three.
> 
> Also, sincere apologies for how long it has been since I updated this series (six years). My Sherlock inspiration comes and goes quite a lot. Hopefully I should be able to get the series completed within this period of inspiration.

It wasn’t that Molly wasn’t excited about John and Mary’s wedding. She was very happy for them, really.

It was only that she thought about Sherlock, and then about Sherlock at big events, and Sherlock with people in general.

And she maybe panicked a bit.

\-----

“Greg.”

“Molly.”

She noted he sounded a bit worried and she felt a little guilty for texting him when she knew he was so busy at work, “I just had a thought.”

“Is that a brain?” he interrupted with a grimace.

She ignored his question, because it very obviously _was_ a brain and she didn’t want to make him even more disgusted by explaining what tests she was planning on running on it, “what if John asks Sherlock to be his best man?”

“Well he will, won’t he? He’s bound to.”

“Exactly.”

Greg shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, “so.”

Molly couldn’t believe he hadn’t twigged how bad this could. Personally, she usually found Sherlock’s stories very interesting, but she had been informed by countless colleagues, friends and especially ex-boyfriends that she could be pretty morbid.

“So, he’ll have to make a speech,” she reminded Greg, “in front of people. There’ll be actual people there actually listening.”

“Well, what’s the worst that could happen?”

It was funny, she’d actually made an extremely long list of all the things could happen. Actually, it wasn’t funny at all, just a little concerning.

“Helen Louise probably wondered the same thing.”

“Helen Louise?”

She looked down at the brain in the bowl she was holding, then back up at Greg.

He got the picture.

“I’ll talk to him,” Greg promised, “see if he’ll let me have a preview of the speech so I can check he hasn’t put anything too … too Sherlock in there.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Molly insisted, “it’s just, most of the people who will be at the wedding don’t know Sherlock. They don’t understand him.”

“Sometimes _I_ don’t understand him,” Greg said with an exasperated but fond smile.

“I always enjoy talking about scientific matters with Sherlock,” Molly told him, “but some people can be squeamish about that sort of stuff.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Greg agreed.

\-----

It was barely half an hour after her conversation with Greg that Molly had another thought. It wasn’t exactly the best time – she was wearing a visor splattered with blood and in the middle of dissecting a brain – but she called Mrs Hudson immediately anyway.

“Oh, hello dear.”

“I was just thinking,” she said, “if John does ask Sherlock …”

Mrs Hudson immediately caught her train of thought, “what, the speech, dear? No, it’ll be fine.”

_If only I could be sure about that_ , Molly thought to herself. She loved Sherlock, but she wasn’t blind to everything that could go wrong with him making a wedding speech, even with his best intentions.

“It’s not just the speech, though, is it?” she reminded Mrs Hudson.

She meant the telegrams. She cringed when she thought of how Sherlock would feel about reading the kind but banal best wishes that would be sent.

There was a long, silent pause.

“Mrs Hudson … are you still there?”

The Baker Street landlady’s hysterical laughter echoed down the phone.

“Mrs Hudson,” she tried again, but the laughter just got louder and louder.

“Sorry, Mrs Hudson,” she said when it became clear the laughter wasn’t going to stop any time soon, “I’ve got to go, I’ll call back later.”

Telegrams … well, they’d just have to hope for the best.

* * *

When Sherlock came to see her about assisting him with some calculations for John’s stag night, Molly didn’t have any problems with that.

The idea was a morbidly sentimental one that could be expected of Sherlock. It would be rather weird for a lot of people, but she thought John would appreciate it.

Sherlock wanting her help with the alcohol measurements was a bit of a surprise, considering he was certainly capable of figuring it out himself. His mention of lacking the practical experience made her want to snort out loud – even years ago Sherlock had always preferred drugs to alcohol, but she distinctly remembered him getting _very_ drunk a few times when she was at uni – and she teased him a bit by acting as though he had offended her by insinuating she liked a drink (she was fond of wine, but she worked too much to ever drink too much of it and she’d never been one to get fall-over drunk).

As he often did when he felt uncomfortable, Sherlock changed the topic swiftly.

“You look … well.”

“I am,” she tried to smile and hoped it didn’t look fake.

“How’s … … Tom?”

A part of her wished his hesitation with Tom’s name was a sign of jealousy, but she was fairly sure he’d just deleted what he considered useless information.

_Tom is normal_ , she thought to herself, _totally normal and nice and … really, really boring._

“Not a sociopath,” she said out loud.

“Still, good.”

Molly’s next words came out before she could even think about them, "and we're having quite a lot of sex."

(A lie of course, because she and Tom spent so little time together anymore, but she just wanted to get some sort of reaction from him).

Sherlock only looked blankly at her, but there was something, a spark of remembrance in his eyes, that made her think he hadn't forgotten that one night so many years ago.

If he'd chosen to remember, it meant something.

She tried to decide whether to chance a less subtle reminder of their liaison, but before she could take the leap, Sherlock spoke.

"Ok," before pulling out his research for John's bachelor party and moving on.

She sighed softly. It was stupid of her to think he'd remember. He'd obviously deleted the memory, probably horrified by what he'd done while he was high.

(She didn't see the faintest of blushes on Sherlock's pale face as she helped him plan. Nor did she realise the images of that night that had raced through his mind as she mentioned sex with Tom).

That night was forever seared on both of their minds, even if Molly was now convinced Sherlock didn’t remember it.

* * *

_Sherlock was high._

_It wasn't particularly unusual or surprising to her now but, as with every time it happened, Molly felt a mix of worry, anger and sadness._

_It didn't matter how many times she told herself that it was his stupid choice, she just couldn't help but care (probably too much, but she found that she couldn't really do anything involving Sherlock half-heartedly)._

_Sherlock had been high more often than not when she had seen him in the past few weeks, but he was slightly different now._

_He wanted to go out._

_Usually he stayed home to enjoy the high – the drugs slowed his brain but didn’t particularly affect his low tolerance for people (idiots, he said)._

_Now, however, he wanted to go to a nightclub of all places._

_She considered arguing with him, but in the end she thought it best not to. She wasn't sure exactly what might set him off into one of his angry phases and she was too tired to face his stubbornness._

_Instead, she simply changed into one of her few clubbing outfits and tried to suggest a few places that weren't too crazy._

_He shot them all down (obviously) and dragged her off to the most popular place for students._

_How he got them in so quickly, she didn't really want to know. She knew she wasn't hideous, but she didn't think she could stand up against the line of tall, thin girls in skimpy dresses, and Sherlock hadn't even bothered to change or run a comb through his wild hair. Yet they somehow managed to bypass the long line and enter with ease._

_Perhaps it was just Sherlock himself. Molly knew she wasn't the only one who found it difficult to stand strong against his imposing figure and strong character (although most people were soon turned off by his personality)._

_She refused to think any more about it, though, because she had a feeling it would come down to some drug connection of Sherlock's that she really didn't want to think about it._

_So, she took and breath and followed Sherlock into the sea of headache-inducing noise and dancing that was the club._

_\-----_

_Molly Hooper, contrary to popular opinion, did not hate clubbing._

_She loved the music and she quite liked to dance._

_Unfortunately, she hated the handsy men and the rampant drunkenness and having to watch any drink she got with an eagle eye so she could be sure it wasn't spiked._

_She liked the quieter spots, where people just went to dance and rowdy students were thin on the ground. Sherlock knew that, but he'd either deleted it or ignored it in his drug-induced haze._

_This place he'd dragged her to was the sort of thing she hated. The clubbers were a sweaty crowd whose noise was drowning out the music (not that the songs were great either). She resolved to settle down into a corner until Sherlock got bored and wanted to leave._

_She really hoped they would be out of there within the hour._

_Of course, because the night was clearly going to be a disaster, Sherlock disappeared almost as soon as they arrived._

_She was incredibly irritated, though not completely unused to such behaviour. Sherlock liked to have people with him so he could show off, but he had a tendency to forget they were there and just pull a disappearing act at random._

_An hour – that was how long she decided to stick around for, and if he hadn't turned up by that point then she would head home. She shouldn't have given him any time at all, considering he was the one who had run off, but she couldn't help but feel concerned about him._

_She fought for fifteen minutes at the bar to get an overpriced drink, overlooked in favour of the rowdy men and confident, attention-grabbing girls. Then she headed to the quietest area she could find and sat down to wait._

_There was no worry about Sherlock being unable to find her. He never had a problem locating someone he knew in a crowd._

_\-----_

_One drink was all she had._

_It wasn’t even a particularly strong one, just something to sip on while she waited for Sherlock._

_She wasn’t really a drinker, but she wasn’t a lightweight either. That one drink did nothing to impair her judgement, only making her the slightest bit more relaxed and a little less irritable with Sherlock for dragging her out and then abandoning her._

_Sherlock wasn’t drinking either, having thankfully refrained from mixing alcohol with the drugs in his system._

_He was high, but that was such a frequent occurrence recently that his drugged-up personality was almost his regular one._

_(She missed sober Sherlock, very much so)._

_She told herself again and again that it was not healthy to have Sherlock as her best friend (or as the person she was rapidly falling in love with). It never made any difference._

_So, she wasn’t drunk, not even tipsy. Sherlock was high, but still coherent enough to have his faculties about him and to be able to make decisions._

_Nevertheless, it was stupid for her to respond when he pushed her against a wall and kissed her once they had returned to his flat barely an hour after they’d left to go to the club (it turned out he’d been there for a case, which he’d quickly wrapped up). It was stupid for her not to make Sherlock go to bed and then leave the flat. It was stupid to kiss him a second, third, fourth time._

_It was incredibly stupid for them to have sex._

_She did it anyway, because she loved him._

\-----

_Sherlock was only really an early riser when he had a case, choosing to forgo sleep for the most part until he had solved his puzzle._

_Still, when no case presented itself, he tended to be exceptionally lazy, often spending the day lolling around in a dressing gown and loudly proclaiming how bored he was until someone (usually Molly) found him a case or an experiment._

_Therefore, it did not surprise her in the least when she woke up, thankfully without a hangover, to Sherlock in a deep sleep next to her._

_He really did sleep like the dead when he had nothing else to do. It had surprised her – his brain was always so active that she often wondered how he could ever sleep well. But a lack of stimulus when he was bored, and exhaustion from skipping out on sleep while on cases, meant he slept surprisingly easily at times._

_She wasn't sure such sleeping patterns could be considered particularly healthy, but she had long ago learnt to pick her battles with Sherlock, and there were more serious issues to focus on (drugs being at the top of her list)._

_She didn't know what to do. Even after he'd been high, Sherlock usually remembered everything that had happened, although he often deleted events almost as soon as they took place. Surely, he would know they had slept together._

_But would he say anything?_

_Sherlock didn't talk about sex. She was almost positive he hadn't been a virgin, but he'd never explicitly stated it and he was certainly capable of hiding things from her._

_She didn't know if he'd mention their liaison with absolutely no emotion, or humiliate her, or just delete it from his mind._

_To be honest, she would prefer the third option. She loved Sherlock, but he was currently in no condition to have a real relationship with her (she wasn't sure he ever would be) and pretending it had never happened was preferable to humiliation._

_(Still, it was something she wouldn’t change, because for a little while he’d seemed to care, almost seemed to love her. She was sure it was the drugs, but she could still pretend, though of course he never would have slept with her if he had been clean)._

_Deciding to avoid the awkwardness that would undoubtedly ensue if she was there when he woke up, Molly grabbed her bag and changed quickly into the clothes she had been wearing the night before. Then she left, locking up using the keys Sherlock had given her (to save him the effort of having to let her in when he either couldn’t be bothered or was working on some important case or delicate experiment)._

* * *

The wedding was lovely. The service, the vows, the music, the outfits.

The weather was beautiful and Molly knew the photographs would come out wonderfully.

Then she saw Mary’s Maid of Honour talking to Sherlock … _flirting_ with Sherlock.

It bothered her and it was a struggle not to show it. To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d been successful in hiding her frown.

Tom turned in her direction and asked something about the reception. Molly felt a surge of guilt run through her – it was a feeling that was becoming ever more present these days.

She looked determinedly away from Sherlock and replied to Tom’s query.

_Pull it together, Molly_ , she told herself, _you can’t have it both ways_.

\-----

“Meat dagger.”

In that moment she honestly felt like killing Tom.

“Sit down,” she hissed, looking anywhere but Sherlock, who, shockingly, did not let loose a diatribe of insulting deductions as she expected he would.

It was an unexpected kindness from him that made her shoot him a small, grateful smile.

Sherlock’s speech ended up being a long, at times convoluted thing (in the end it had solved a case, so she wasn’t too surprised). She worried at some points, but it turned out surprisingly sweet in the end and she could feel one or two tears in the corners of her eyes.

He played his violin for John and Mary’s first dance and though she knew she should be watching the happy couple or daydreaming about dancing with Tom, Molly instead found herself watching Sherlock as he played.

She did dance with Tom, but her heart wasn’t in it despite the smile she plastered onto her face. She was distracted, always looking towards Sherlock.

She saw Sherlock leave. She thought about following him. But she was still with Tom, and it wasn’t her place.

Still, for hours after she regretted that she hadn’t gone after him.

* * *

Molly was quiet on the journey home from the wedding.

Tom, who’d had a little too much to drink, was snoring softly next to her. She was glad, really, that she didn’t have to try and talk to him while her thoughts were a complete mess.

She’d spent the majority of the wedding watching Sherlock rather than her own fiancé. She hadn’t been able to concentrate properly once she noticed Sherlock sneak away. And then of course there was _meat dagger_ , which honestly just hurt her soul a little bit.

She and Tom needed to have a talk.

This had to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> The next part is pretty much written and just needs a bit of editing, so will hopefully be out within a week. I wouldn't blame you if you want to wait until all the stories in this series are out, though, considering how long it has taken me to write this one.


End file.
